


Mine

by occasionalfics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:03:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasionalfics/pseuds/occasionalfics
Summary: When Thor says the wrong thing, you make him jealous to teach him a lesson. And it works. Almost too well.





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, my first flagged post from Tumblr! Originally posted @ occasionalfics.tumblr.com in ...a while ago. I don't have a timecode.

Thor couldn’t tell if you were doing it on purpose. You were nice, friendly, and obliging without being a doormat. He liked that about you. Usually. But then you went and talked to that guy at the bar - some Midgardian who didn’t at all seem like your type - because Thor’d mouthed off. He knew he had to make that up to you. The anger and frustration in your glare as you’d walked away from him told him that much.

He watched as you sat on the stool facing this man, some thin but toned man with dark hair and eyes. There was nothing wrong with the man, and Thor _tried_ to remind himself that the man was innocent and ignorant of what’d happened, but the longer he watched with his stein in hand, the more blurred the lines of his self control became. He knew you were right to be angry with him, but that wasn’t the problem. It was that your immediate reaction was to flirt with another man that irked him.

It was his own fault for not telling you how he truly felt about your relationship. He was used to coming and going from Midgard, and that was the very thing that tore him and Jane apart. But this time was different; he had nowhere else to go. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t sure he could, now that he had you. Still, he had his hesitations; he’d been hurt too many times by too many people that he loved before - and _this_ was his price for that caution.

He slammed the stein on the table so hard that the glass shattered - all but the handle. Steve, Sam, and Natasha all turned and glared at him, though with varying degrees of sympathy and derision. He was tired of that, too.

He stood from the uncomfortable vinyl couch and marched across the room, pushing past people with brash apologies that his mother would be ashamed of. He wasn’t thinking of that, though; just of you and that man’s arm reaching out for your wrist. He caught the end of the suggestive question the man asked you before he showed himself, standing tall and red-faced like a bull.

When you saw Thor standing furious and tense at your side, you lost all thoughts of your bar companion. A mix of emotions stirred within you: First, you were terrified. You’d seen him this angry only a handful of times, and mostly in battle, when he’d already been knocked around too hard for his liking; Second, you were surprised that he was even acknowledging your presence. When Thor got angry like this, he shouted until his pride took a hit, and then he demanded to be alone until he could hear his thoughts; Third, and maybe most importantly, you were kind of turned on. His one blue eye only shone like a brushfire when he was in an overly protective/nearly possessive mood.

And after months and _months_ of asking him what it was you were doing together, he finally showed some kind of direct response.

David went and ruined it with, “Can we help you, dude?”

Thor’s eye left yours, and you felt David convulse under his steely, frightening gaze. “I suggest you take a walk, _dude_ ,” Thor responded, his voice low and rumbling and just loud enough that you convinced yourself you felt the vibrations resonate throughout your body.

You felt David let go of your wrist, but you didn’t dare look at him. He’d done his job, even if he didn’t know he’d been set up for one by you.

Thor took a step closer to your barstool, put a large, warm hand against the small of your back, and whispered in that same low rumble, “We’re leaving.”

Normally, you’d give him a hard time for telling you what to do, but as his beard scratched against the side of your face, and as you could practically _smell_ the fury falling off of him, you were speechless. You did as he said without a response, sliding off the barstool before pulling out your wallet to leave a sizable tip for the bartender. Thor’s hand moved to yours, and you were surprised at how lightly he held you. He was always so careful, so aware of the fact that he was nearly indestructible while you weren’t.

Your apartment was only around the corner, so you trotted behind Thor the whole way. He took one step for every two of yours on a regular basis, which left you practically sprinting to keep your arm from popping out of its socket. You would’ve complained if you weren’t so intrigued by the complete change in character one useless Midgardian had forced upon Thor. When you made it to your building, Thor let you up the stairs to the main door first so you could unlock it, but once you were in the hall, he threw you over his shoulder with a light, “Hey!” from you as your fists colided with his back, just lightly enough to let him know you weren’t so keen on being tossed like a doll. His only response was a swift, hard smack to your ass, which earned him a half-squeal-half-yell.

He seemed to find that amusing as he made it to the third floor landing, and then around the corner to your door. He turned so you could unlock the door without having to let you down, then backed into your living room after he heard the hinges creak. He’d broken and fixed that door too many times to mess with it now.

When he let you down and turned to face you, he saw the confusion on your face. You were between frustration and arousal, tension and excitement. “What was that little show all about?” he asked, his tone suspicious now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. “I was talking to someone that was actually nice to me.”

He laughed. “You can’t tell me you believe that man was nice for the sake of it,” he said, bending forward so you were nearly face to face.

“He was nicer than you were,” you said, lowering your brow at him to try to match his intimidating look. It was hard, not being a towering God of, well, anything. Still, you’d worked for SHIELD. You could do it, if you put effort into it.

“Perhaps,” he said, no hint of an apology on his tongue. “But he can’t have you.”

“And why is that?” you asked, putting your hands on your hips without even thinking about it.

He was focused on your face, on the clear curiosity in your eyes and the smirk you were trying hard to fight then. You both knew something was happening, and neither of you were willing to stop it.

“Because you’re _mine_ ,” he growled, then immediately crashed his lips against yours. His kiss was hot and sloppy, and suddenly his hands gripped your face almost too tight, keeping you against him even though you gave no hint that you wanted to pull back.

In fact, you pressed your body against him and gasped when he bit hard on your bottom lip. He pushed his tongue into your mouth forcefully, then didn’t even have to fight for dominance. He had it. There was no challenge, and for once, he was okay with that. He knew you well enough to know that meant he could keep going like this, that you were comfortable even if he was rough and still slightly angry.

His hands moved down your body quickly, then back and around your thighs to pull your legs up around him. You sighed against him, another sign of contentment despite his calloused hands taking no heed against your skin, and hooked your ankles together behind him. Your arms stretched out around his neck. He started to make his way to your bedroom, but with such limited visibility, he backed you right into a wall. Thankfully your head was bit too preoccupied to take the brunt of the hit, but you still groaned at the spasm in your back. But he never let go, never paused to check for damage. You didn’t, either.

His chapped lips moved down along your jaw, then further to your neck and collarbone. He pulled on the straps of your flowing tank top and the bra beneath, pulling them out of the way as he traveled, sending goose bumps all over. You tried to pull on his shirt, but it was stuck beneath your shins and refused to give. He pushed your arms away one at a time, never losing his focus as he bit and sucked and licked along your chest.

He was going to leave large purple bruises all over you for everyone to see. The whole team. Anyone you saw on the street - they would all know you were his and _his alone_. You reveled in the thought, knowing that this was a more aggressive version of what you’d wanted all along: for him to admit that you were together and exclusive.

In one movement, he reached up and pulled your tank top off, throwing it somewhere behind him with abandon. You forced his lips back to yours once it was gone, then he lifted you from the wall and continued the journey to the bedroom. He made it to the door, then pressed you up against it with his body flush against yours while he fiddled with the knob - it’d been troublesome for a while, but you’d been too lazy to care. He must’ve pulled too hard, because the whole thing broke off and crashed to the floor before you felt him kick the door in beneath you. You felt his hardon against the bottom of your thigh and let out a desperate moan.

Once he had you inside the room, he made it most of the way to the bed before pulling you off his frame and tossing you. You yelled out, but landed softly against the mattress, turning over once until you faced up. “Clothes off,” he barked. “Now.”

“Who made you the boss of me?” you asked, intentionally smirking in indignance.

“I did,” he said, stepping close to you in one long stride. He towered over you, a stern look in his eye, though it wasn’t terrifying or furious anymore. Slowly, like he was questioning the move itself, he reached out and put his huge hand against your throat, squeezing like an automatic blood pressure cuff until he could feel your pulse beat wildly under his grasp. “And I told you to take your clothes off.”

You nodded as heat pooled in your lower belly. He’d never been rough like this - never touched you with this kind of passion. You hadn’t thought you’d like it, and yet...as he leaned down and left a bruising kiss on your lips, you did as you were told. You reached back and undid the clasp of your bra, then let the fabric fall away. Then you unbuttoned your shorts and pushed them off, too. He let you go, but only so that he could kneel at the end of the bed and bring you to him by your thighs.

He pulled his shirt off, then your panties before putting your legs over his shoulders. There was no teasing, no preempting; he dove right in, his nose pressing against your pelvis as he went straight for your clit. You lost all control of the noises you made as he swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud, flicking it around and back and forth again and again as tension and heat built in you. His breath against your skin, combined with a thick finger being inserted into you, made your back arch and your hips sink into the mattress. One of your hands tugged at his hair, then massaged his scalp in cycles. Your other hand did the same to your breasts until his free hand pushed yours away so he could work you like he wanted.

When he felt you start to clench around his finger, he withdrew completely. You whined and moaned and grasped for him, but he sat back on his heels and smirked.

“Asshole,” you muttered, though you couldn’t stop your body from squirming in search of him. You needed him, but you didn’t want to admit it.

He chuckled and shook his head, then stood and began to remove his jeans. You could see how hard he was as he stood in the boxers you’d picked out for him, and you gasped at the sight.

He took the boxers off, flung them away, then climbed onto the bed and hovered over you. “Maybe,” he said, lining himself up with your entrance. He ran the head of his cock up and down your dripping folds, pausing only when you gasped and shut your eyes. He gripped your chin and forced you to look at him as he said, “But I’m _your_ asshole.” Without much else of a warning, he pushed himself into you all at once, pausing to let you adjust.

When you had, you wrapped your arms around his huge frame and dug your fingernails into his back. He kissed you hard again, then pulled himself completely out of you before slamming back in. He didn’t allow you to pull away from his kiss, so you scratched harder and made lewd sounds against his lips. He set a fast, hard pace, and soon you felt the tension building in your core again. You wrapped your legs around him as he buried himself deep in you over and over, and before long, you were so close that you cried out to let him know.

He didn’t relent, even as you came and clenched around him. You moaned even louder against his neck, riding out your waves of pleasure until he followed his own orgasm. He filled you up with hot cum, his hips slowing gradually as his hands tightened against yours. When you both calmed down, he took a moment to just breathe against you. You took to drawing small circles on his back, easing the both of you into a peaceful silence.

A few minutes later, he gently pulled himself out, then rolled over to lay beside you on the bed. He sighed, intertwined your hands that were closest to one another, and brought the back of yours to his lips. “I must apologize,” he whispered, his tone so completely opposite of what it was before that you almost didn’t believe he was the same person. Almost. “I said something that upset you earlier, and I shouldn’t have.”

You rolled over as well, but didn’t let go of his hand. You brought it underneath you as you looked down at him, his forearm between your breasts. “I’m sorry, too,” you told him just as quietly. “My reaction shouldn’t be to just...run off and find some poor bloke to make you jealous.”

He laughed with you, though you were both still quite out of breath. You leaned down and, without breaking eye contact, kissed each of his fingers. He bit his lip and after a minute, he shook his head, too.

“I should’ve said it earlier,” he told you, “but you are mine. I didn’t mean to take you for granted.”

You took a moment, then moved so you leaned over him with a smirk. You lowered your face to his slowly, leaving a long, tender kiss on his lips before pulling back to tell him, “I know. And _you’re_ mine.”


End file.
